The Rev. J. L. gives you the scoop on OJ, Barry Bonds and Mack Brown

What the heck? It's Friday. I ain't got no (real) job, might as well ...

By Jon Garrett

If I did it: Rev. J. L. gives you the scoop

So it looks like O. J. Simpson's ghost-written book, "If I Did It," is cutting up the competition, hitting No. 2 on the New York Times best-sellers list for non-fiction this week, and killing - at least temporarily - former President Bill Clinton's hopes of climbing to the top spot with his book "Giving," after it debuted in second place a week before.

The high debut proves two things: people are stupid and hypothetical confessions are all the rage. So, in the spirit of the Apocalypse - because you can bet your bottom dollar this is a sign those Four Horsemen will be upon us soon - I contacted my ghostwriter, alter-ego, or perhaps he's just a figment of my imagination. The Honorable Reverend Jebediah Jefferson Pierce Lovegood (J. L. for short) will now ruminate on how some other infamous events might have transpired if I did it.

June 12, 1994 Los Angeles

What happened:

Shortly before midnight on June 12, 1994, the Rev.'s vintage Cadillac throws a rod in the Brentwood subdivision of LA. Upset that "Dorothy," - he loved that car - had met her end due to his own dubious maintenance of their relationship.

The Rev. is beating on the hood of his car with the bottom of his snakeskin boots when he hears screaming and loud banging sounds as if there was a scuffle.

Ever a prudent man, the Rev. decides it would not be good for the LAPD to come upon him, a rather large black man in a part of the community with very few minorities, kicking a car in such a prestigious neighborhood. It might present the wrong appearance, especially with the sounds of trouble nearby, so he dives into a row of bushes in front of a palatial condo.

As he does, he hears the click of fine shoes on pavement and turns to see three men in dark suites - obviously criminals of some sort - covered in blood and pursued by a frantic O. J. Simpson. They leave in an unmarked vehicle the Rev. didn't notice before and Simpson falls to the ground clutching a bloody glove in one hand.

The Rev., not believing his own eyes, asks Simpson what happened. It's not every day you see your idol, the Juice, running down an LA street chasing gangsters in the middle of the night. Crying and simpering, Simpson quickly tells his story of woe. While stopping by to check on his ex-wife and kids, he notices a struggle in front of the condo.

Summoning all that was left of the speed that made him a start at USC and in the NFL, Simpson rushed to the condo only to find his ex Nicole Brown and her good friend Ron Goldman struggling with the aforementioned figures, who were armed with knives.

O. J. joined the fray, but it was too late to save the others lives. Spooked by the appearance of the Juice, the criminals fled, their dirty work done.

Sympathizing, and highly aware of the LAPD's reputation at the time, the Rev. suggests that O. J. go home and get out of town. After all, he said, "I know you didn't do it, but it looks really bad."

Recognizing the wisdom in the Rev.'s words, the Juice agrees but asks what he should do with the bloody glove he had taken from the attacker.

Moved by the emotion in his favorite running back and actor's eyes, the Rev. says he will take the evidence and put it away somewhere safe just in case it can help O. J. find the killers.

The result:

The Rev. was right. For some reason the LAPD fingered O.J. for the crime but eventually he was acquitted thanks to the legal acumen of now-deceased freedom fighter and legal scholar Johnnie Cochran.

At the conclusion of the trial the Juice vows to find the real killers. Unfortunately the bloody glove that was left in the possession of the Rev., who placed it under the seat of his Caddy for safekeeping while he went for help, was lost.

During a trip to O. J.'s Rockingham estate to deliver the glove, the Rev. is spooked by freeloader Kato Kaelin, whom he mistakes for a renegade Sasquatch. The Rev. decides it's time to get back to Texas, where people are right in the head and hightails it out of town.
Unfortunately, the glove is considered a major piece of evidence against Simpson, when the cops find its match at the murder scene and are not privy to the fact that O. J. had ripped one of the gloves off the attackers during the struggle and he was so shaken he had not gone back to the scene to see if there was another before leaving.

All turned out well though. Not bitter, despite losing a civil agreement to the misled families of both victims; Simpson retired to sunny Florida to follow up leads on the real killers and improve his golf game.

Fall 1998 San Francisco

What happened:

An irate Barry Bonds watches on with jealousy, as Mark McGwire becomes a national here on the way to a record-breaking 70-home run season. Bonds, who has never mixed anything stronger than a protein drink into his workout routine, recognizes McGwire as a juicer.

Though envious of McGwire's accomplishments, Bonds consoles himself with the knowledge that he does everything the right way.

The Rev., a newly hired Giant's locker room attendant, notices Bonds brooding over the television set in front of his locker as McGwire smashes another one out of the park.

Feeling sympathy for the lone slugger who has put the fortunes of San Francisco on his back for so many seasons, without nearly as much acclaim, the Rev. says, "They're just letting him do it because he's a white boy."

The result:

Bonds, who has devoted his life to affirmative action after seeing what his godfather Willie Mays and other black players went through during the early days of integration in baseball begins using Winstrol after the 1998 season to set things right.

He adds 15 pounds of solid muscle that off-season, going from 210 pounds to 225, and goes on to become the greatest slugger of all time, eclipsing even the Great Bambino and Hammerin' Hank.

The Rev., always willing to offer a shoulder for those in need, goes on to tell Giant's slugger Jeff Kent that, "They're only letting Bonds bat cleanup because he's black."

Kent leaves the team soon after and continues to put up what should be hall-of-fame numbers for several teams and is inaccurately portrayed as a racist by former teammate Milton Bradley.

June 2007 Austin, TX

What happened:

Rested, relaxed and back in a state where you can tell the girls from the boys (perhaps with the exception of College Station - I kid! I kid!) - he had an unfortunate misunderstanding while in a L.A. nightclub one night - the Rev. is enjoying a summer of fishing, tubing the river and good barbecue when he gets a call from his buddy Mack Brown.

They met at the premiere of "We Are Marshall" and their love of football bonded them quickly.

It seems the Longhorn football team's squeaky-clean image under Mack has led some national pundits to deem his program too soft to ever win a championship without Vince Young at the helm.

Mack could care less what those outside the program think, but the suits that hold the purse-stings at the university want the squad to inspire the kind of fear that Oklahoma and Miami do in opposing teams, the kind of fear that comes from the knowledge that you might have an actual ex-con standing across the line from you.

Sensing where the conversation is going, the Rev. tells Mack he has a big one on the line and hangs up the phone.

The Result:

Six arrests and counting for the Longhorns football program since June ... and the Rev. is thinking about a trip to California, or maybe even Vegas. After all that whole O. J. thing has blown over by now. Right?